


Seen Correctly

by flawedamythyst



Series: The Seen Trilogy [1]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-10
Updated: 2012-03-10
Packaged: 2017-11-01 17:43:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/359548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawedamythyst/pseuds/flawedamythyst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The unconscious mind of man sees correctly even when conscious reason is blind and impotent. (Carl Jung)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seen Correctly

The first time Watson was ill after he moved in to Baker Street with Holmes, he was completely confounded by Holmes's reaction. It was merely a relapse of the fever he'd succumbed to after being injured in Afghanistan, serious enough for him to spend several days in bed but not worrying enough to bother calling for a doctor. He'd almost been expecting it – relapses were extremely common in cases such as his – and he'd presumed that Holmes would keep out of his way, annoyed by Watson's fraility, and leave his care to Mrs Hudson.

Instead, however, Holmes stayed glued to his side from the very moment he first swept into Watson's bedroom demanding to know why Watson was missing lunch as well as breakfast and was visibly taken aback to find Watson lying in bed, tossing and turning with fever. He brought wet cloths for Watson's forehead, ruthlessly bullying him into drinking as much water as possible, and even medicated him with more skill and knowledge than many doctors that Watson had known. All the while, Mrs Hudson and the maid were kept strictly on the periphery, only allowed to bring supplies as far as the bedroom door but no further. 

If he had felt up to it, Watson would have been embarrassed by the lengths to which Holmes went to for his sake, even going so far as to play his violin very softly for Watson when the fever burnt too fiercely for him to be able to calm his mind enough for sleep. As it was, Watson simply tended to let his eyes fall shut, bathing in the feeling of being at the centre of his friend's formidable levels of attention, too weary and ill to wonder why Holmes was being so considerate.

****

Watson may have been less surprised about Holmes's care of him had he been been privy to a few pertinent facts, most importantly something that the nurses in India had been just as surprised by as Holmes was. When Watson was feverish, he completely lost the filter between his brain and his mouth, so that every idle thought that passed through his mind was spoken out loud.

Thus, when Holmes burst into his room on that first morning of his sickness, he was greeted with, "My word, Holmes, you look practically ravishing this morning. How do you always manage to look so damnably kissable?" before Watson was able to pull himself together enough to give what he clearly considered to be his only reply to Holmes's query, explaining that he was sick.

Holmes quickly realised two things. The first was that if Watson was prone to giving away his secrets whilst ill, it was imperative that Mrs Hudson and the maid be kept well away from him. The second was that he absolutely had to take this opportunity to find out what other less-than-innocent thoughts were lurking behind Watson's respectable demeanour.

It didn't take him long to discover that there was a great deal more, and most of it was bound up with him. It seemed that everything he did sparked a reaction in Watson that he shared with out loud, his voice taking on a quiet, almost-reverent tone. 

Whilst Holmes prepared an injection on the evening of the first day, he received a rambling monologue on the beauty and delicacy of his hands – something he'd never given much thought to before but which he knew he'd be dwelling on later, working out the best way to show them off to his best advantage.

"I wish you were tending me in bed under far more pleasurable circumstances," Watson said the next morning, sighing as Holmes changed his sweat-soaked sheets from under him, and, after blinking his eyes open from a restless nap later that day, "Waking up to see you here is better than a shot of morphine."

Holmes was forced to resort to playing his violin in an effort to gain some control over his wildly spinning mind, so that he wouldn't give in to the intense desire to force himself on Watson despite his weakened and semi-delirious state, but even that didn't offer a reprieve from the tantalising glances into Watson's mind.

"I must be very ill – I'm not even able to become aroused like I usually do when you play to me."

Holmes gritted his teeth and kept playing, resolving for the thousandth time since this fever had begun that certain things were going to change in 221B Baker Street, just as soon as Watson was well enough to appreciate them.


End file.
